


Friends and Changes

by ReidFan



Category: Criminal Minds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:45:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7933384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReidFan/pseuds/ReidFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>they've fired Thomas Gibson. Which means we're losing Hotch. As unhappy as that makes me, I still love the show and decided to write my own version of his exit.....with a twist.</p><p>contains implied character death. yes, that says *implied*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends and Changes

Friends and Changes

©mccabebabe@hotmail.com

(A CM Fanfiction) Warning: contains implied character death until…..

 

K+ (Reid, Garcia, team)

 

Criminal Minds belongs to ABC, CBS, Mark Gordon Company etc. I own nothing.

 

 

It is not the strongest or the most intelligent who will survive but those who can best manage change. **_\--Charles Darwin_**

****

Change is the law of life and those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future **_– John F. Kennedy_**

****

The first step toward change is awareness. The second step is acceptance. **_–Nathaniel Branden_**

****

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       She heard the soft rustle of the bedding and hastily put her cellphone away, hurrying over to his bedside as he moved. SSA Jennifer “JJ” Jareau had spent the better part of the last eleven days at the bedside of her injured colleague, sharing the sentry duties with another of their coworkers, technical analyst Penelope Garcia. Their two newest team members, Dr. Tara Lewis and Agent Luke Alvez were out with their interim chief SSA David Rossi, trying to find the person responsible for the disaster which had forever changed the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit.

 

            SSA Dr. Spencer Reid lay in the hospital bed before her, seriously injured when he’d thrown himself at Garcia to shield her from the explosion. He’d been wearing his Kevlar, which had taken the brunt of the blast but the resulting shrapnel had inflicted injuries on them both. Garcia had sustained mostly superficial cuts to her legs and arms, stitches being the end result of the one long gash on her left leg; the most serious injury she’d suffered. Reid had now been unconscious for over a week as the doctors treated a variety of injuries not the least of which was a head injury the severity of which had not yet been determined.

 

            She bent over him as he stirred slightly but did not awaken. His head rolled from one side to the other but his eyes didn’t open.

 

            “Spence?” she whispered hopefully, reaching out with one hand to touch him but stopping herself short. The left side of his face was bandaged, from the hairline by his temple all the way down along his cheek and jaw to his neck. There was a dressing covering a circle from his crown around to the back of his head as well. JJ wasn’t sure if there were stitches under that bandaging. He was outfitted in a simple blue hospital gown but bulky surgical dressing was visible under the garment’s left shoulder and all down along his arm. Even some of his fingers were encased in bandaging. He was covered with a blanket from chest level down such that JJ didn’t know how much more extensively he was bandaged but judging from the tattered remains of the pants and shirt he’d been wearing at the time, the news was likely not much better. His watch had been shattered in the explosion, as had his sidearm, those items she had seen when she had taken custody of his patient belongings bag. Both his cell phone and his wallet had also suffered damage. JJ was quite certain they’d suffered burns, which to her greater concern, likely meant Reid himself had been burned.

 

            For several days, he’d been in a medically induced coma to aid healing. Although they had yet to be apprised of the extent of his injuries, Reid’s doctor had assured Garcia and JJ that he expected Reid to recover from most of them. The head injury was his primary concern, and until Reid regained consciousness, the doctor would not make a prognosis about it. He’d made it sound like it could range in severity from ‘nothing at all’ to ‘life altering’ and the unknown gnawed at both JJ and Garcia relentlessly. What if Reid was done as a profiler? What if there was brain damage? Tears pricked at JJ’s eyes as she wondered if her best friend would ever be the same.

 

            _Who am I kidding?_ She thought, as memories of the past two weeks flooded through her. _Nothing will ever be the same again. Even if he makes a full recovery. We’re a mess! Garcia and I are distracted. Spence is hurt. And Hotch. Oh my God. Hotch is dead._

 

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            “Temporarily. All right. Until you can find someone to do the job who actually wants it,” Rossi spoke into his cell phone and grunted an acknowledgement to whatever his caller said then clicked it off and shoved it back into his pocket. He sat at the round table in the conference room and met the gaze of one of his coworkers.

 

            “But you’ve done the job before, Dave, you sure you don’t want it?”

 

            “Abso-flippin’-lutely not, Tara,” he barked out in reply, shaking his head emphatically as he spoke. “I watched this job rip Aaron’s marriage apart, damn near wrecked his relationship with Jack. And ultimately killed him. No flippin’ thank you,” he stated unequivocally. There was an awkward moment of complete silence in the room as they each remembered their late leader.

 

            “Have we got an update on Reid?” Agent Luke Alvez wanted to know as he entered the room and sat down across from the others.

 

            Rossi shook his head and replied “Haven’t heard anything new from JJ or Garcia in,” he paused to consult his watch, “a couple of hours. I’m assuming no change then.”

 

            Alvez tossed a file and a few photographs on the table and muttered, “I wanna nail this sonuvabitch.”

 

            “We all do,” Lewis concurred. Sighing, she reviewed the file in her hand.

 

            The three of them went over the information they’d already gathered, hoping the exercise would trigger more ideas that would lead them to their unsub. Or rather, lead to his co-conspirators. Rossi was convinced the man, who had also died in the blast wasn’t working alone and voiced this opinion out loud. Continuing his train of thought silently, Rossi felt certain that the explosion had gone off prematurely, the unsub had a specific target in mind when he’d—

 

            “He wasn’t expecting to run into law enforcement at the coffee shop.” Rossi exclaimed.

 

            “He panicked and set it off accidentally,” Alvez surmised, picking up on Rossi’s thought.

 

            “Why haven’t we got any hit on an ID for him though?” Lewis complained. “No fingerprints, no tattoos or identifying marks. No matches on any International agencies. He had no ID on him. Nothing to connect him to anything? There has to be some way—“

 

            “There wasn’t enough of him left to identify.” He shrugged and added, “They’ll do DNA testing, I’m sure. And we’ve got people checking for the sources of his bomb components,” Rossi told them. He released a deep sigh and continued, “I think the anti-terrorist task force is probably gonna take over this case.”

 

            “Was that your phone call earlier?” Alvez asked him.

 

            Rossi shook his head. “No. That was Cruz asking me to take over Hotch’s job. But he did mention that this case was probably bigger than us. And he understands we wanna keep on it too.” His jaw set in determination and anger, “We are gonna nail the jagoffs responsible for killing Hotch.”

 

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            “For the tenth time, Penelope, I don’t think it’s your fault! Spence and Hotch wanted coffees too,” JJ said in as reassuring a voice she could muster. “You followed procedures, they were still in their Kevlars, they stayed with the car, and you went in to get coffees.”

 

            “And food. And probably more than I should have got. I couldn’t carry it all. Reid got out of the car to come and help me when I came out the coffee shop door and—“ she stopped short as a thought occurred to her.

 

            “What, Pen?”

 

            “The bomber.” Garcia’s eyes widened as she looked across the room to the unconscious Reid and then back to JJ. “He was walking through the parking spaces when Reid got out to help me, JJ!”

 

            “Pen, we already figured out that he was surprised to find FBI at the coffee shop, that it probably spooked him.”

 

            “Oh. Okay, right.” Garcia pursed her lips and her attention returned to her laptop.

 

            After a few moments of silence, JJ got up from her chair and addressed Garcia in a whisper, “I’m actually gonna head out for a bit, Garcia, if that’s okay.”

 

          Garcia nodded, “Of course, I’ve got this. You know, JJ, as soon as he wakes up or I hear anything, I will let you and the others know.” She tapped a few keys then made eye contact with JJ again, “Go!”

 

            “Okay. But Pen? Try and think back and remember everything that happened up until the blast. I know you’re having a little bit of trouble with memory, that’s probably ‘cause you blacked out, but think about it, maybe write it down if anything new comes to you.” Her brow furrowed as a thought occurred to her, “You sure it’s okay for me to go, Pen?”

 

            “I’m fine, JJ. It’s Gorgeous Gray Matter we need to worry about,” she said sadly, waving her hand in his direction, her attention returning once again to her laptop.

 

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            “Oh,” came the weak groan from Reid, as his eyes slowly opened and focused on the room. Immediately, Garcia put down her computer and hurried to his side.

 

            “Reid?”

 

            He shut his eyes against the pain, sighed and reopened them, blinking as he slowly focused on his visitor. “Garcia?”

 

            “Reid, shhh. It’s okay, you’re okay,” she reassured him as he held up his left arm weakly. As gently as she could, she pushed the arm back down onto the bed, apologising profusely as he winced in pain.

 

            “What happened?” he asked in a shaky voice.

 

            “You,” she paused, “You don’t remember?”

 

            He shook his head from side to side, only once as that action hurt. Garcia wasn’t sure how much she should tell him and bit her lip.

 

            “Burns, I think, Reid. You were hurt in an explosion and I think this is mostly burns.”

 

            He clearly couldn’t remember the incident and Garcia wanted no part of telling him. Their eyes met and he was perceptive enough to see that she wasn’t going to elaborate.

 

            “I’m just gonna go get your doctor, because he’ll wanna see you now that you’re awake.”

 

            Reid nodded once and watched as Garcia left the room then lifted his head just enough to check out how extensive the bandaging was. He shifted his blanket and noted that most of his left side and leg were covered in gauzy dressing. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember what happened and only glimmers of memories came to him. A flash of light. Falling. Searing pain in his left leg. And a sharper, harsher pain in his head. Then blackness.

 

            Replacing the blanket, he sighed and tried to think about where he’d been. The last memory he had was standing by Garcia as she played the role of big time music producer on her computer but he couldn’t recall why.

 

            The door opened and his doctor entered, the nurse right behind him.

 

            “Dr. Reid, it’s nice to see you finally waking up,” the doctor started, “I’m Dr. Renfrew, burn specialist. You’re actually healing quite nicely.”

 

            He unwrapped Reid’s left hand and seemed pleased with the progress, asking him to move his fingers, which Reid did without any apparent difficulty.

 

            “Good, good,” he murmured as he continued his examination. Reid followed the doctor’s progress with his eyes as he checked under each of the other dressings Reid bore and addressed the nurse. “This one, and this and this,” he indicated Reid’s hand, hip and face as he spoke, “You can leave unwrapped. They’ve healed sufficiently that further bandaging is unnecessary. These still needs protection,” he continued, indicating Reid’s upper arm and upper left leg and the nurse noted this and nodded. “Now, if you’ll let me have a look under this,” Dr. Renfrew moved to Reid’s head, cutting off the bandaging that encircled the crown of Reid’s skull. A nasty cut was evident, one that traversed from his temple back along to just above his ear. Reid winced as the doctor’s fingers probed the wound. The dark stitches were in stark contrast to the shaved section of his head. “This needs to be cleaned again, and redressed,” the doctor instructed the nurse then addressed Reid, “Are you remembering anything?”

 

            Reid pursed his lips and replied, “Just pieces. I remember a flash of light, and falling. And pain just before blackness.”

 

            Dr. Renfrew noted that on Reid’s chart.

 

            “What happened to me, Doctor?”

 

            “There was an explosion, Dr. Reid, you were injured in the blast but I’m seeing excellent progress and anticipate a full physical recovery. I’m just wondering if you’ve got residual memory loss or other damage because of the head injury.” He’d given a deliberately vague answer as he gauged Reid’s response.

 

            “I have an eidetic memory, Dr. Renfrew. But that usually relates to things I’ve read or had read to me. I’m remembering bits and pieces but not the context,” Reid told him truthfully. It annoyed him that there were so many blanks to fill, and it annoyed him further that the doctor didn’t seem to be forthcoming to fill any of them.

 

            Dr. Renfrew shone his little light into Reid’s eyes and seemed pleased with the reaction reflected there. He made notations on the chart again then rose from his chair and handed the chart to the nurse.

 

            He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Garcia as well as several others through the window of his door. Dr. Renfrew saw it too and spoke to the nurse for a moment before turning to Reid and saying,

 

            “You have visitors. I’m ordering a couple of tests to be run, Dr. Reid. I’ll be back to see you again tomorrow.” He left as the nurse moved in to redress Reid’s head and arm but stopped to talk to Garcia and the others in the hallway.

 

            The nurse finished with Reid’s bandages and asked him if he was hungry.

 

            “Could I have some Jell-O?” he asked her and she smiled and hurried away to get it. As she opened the door to leave, Garcia, JJ and Rossi rushed in.

 

            JJ reached him first, enveloping him in a gentle and careful hug then gave way to Rossi. He took Reid’s face gingerly in his hands and gave the younger man a pair of air kisses before relinquishing Reid to Garcia’s waiting arms. Just as she closed them around Reid, Garcia had a flashback. She kissed the top of his head softly then stepped back and made eye contact with Rossi. They exchanged a significant glance then Rossi pasted a cheerful smile on his face and spoke,

 

            “Hey, Kid, you’re lookin’ pretty good for someone who went a couple rounds with an I-E-D. Doc says you’re gonna be okay.”

 

            Reid sat up straight in bed, “I-E-D? What the—?”

 

            “Oh, crap,” Rossi muttered. “I thought you knew, doctor said he’d told you.”

 

            “I knew there was an explosion. I didn’t know it was an I-E-D, Rossi. What the hell happened? Where’s Alvez? And Lewis? And Hotch?”

 

            Reid watched as their faces changed when he said ‘Hotch.’ Garcia started to cry, JJ’s eyes welled up and Rossi moved to sit next to Reid on the bed. He reached out and touched his shoulder.

 

            “Alvez and Lewis are out on the case, Reid,” Rossi began. He heaved an enormous sigh, squeezed Reid’s shoulder and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry, Rei—Spencer—but there’s no easy way to tell you this. Aaron Hotchner was killed in the explosion that injured you and Garcia.”

 

            Shock, then grief, registered on Reid’s face and Garcia moved in quickly, wiping her own tears away and touching a fresh tissue to Reid’s eyes before gathering him in a hug again. He buried his face in her shoulder and cried unabashedly for several moments before lifting his head up and meeting their worried gazes.

 

“He’s gone?” Reid whispered in a sad tone and JJ’s heart went out to him.

 

“In an instant, Spence. He wouldn’t’ve felt any pain.”

 

Reid nodded acknowledgement, blinked away a few more tears and stared blankly forward, “Jack?” his whispered.

 

“With his Aunt Jessica.”

  
            Again Reid nodded, licked his lip and met her eyes, “When’s the funeral?”

 

JJ blinked away tears, reached out and touched Reid’s uninjured hand and told him, “It was on Tuesday, Spence. Jessica didn’t want to prolong things for Jack. We didn’t know how long you were gonna be unconscious—I’m sorry.“

 

He nodded and waved it off, “Nah, that was the right thing to do. Poor Jack.”

 

Garcia touched his hand, “I will take you to the cemetery to say good bye when you’re able,” she offered, knowing how important it would be to him to bid farewell to the man who had been his mentor and like a father figure to him for so many years.

 

            “Thank you,” he whispered to Garcia. He swallowed hard, steeled himself and asked, “What happened? I mean, _exactly_ what happened?”

 

            “We were on the way back to the office after successfully talking down, and bringing in the unsub in our latest case, the distraught deejay,” Garcia began, releasing Reid from her arms and sitting straight up next to him.

 

            Reid nodded, “I remember that. You pretended to be a big time New York producer and helped us talk him down.”

 

            Garcia patted his hand, “Yes, and afterwards, we decided we all wanted food and coffee so Hotch pulled the SUV into the parking lot of a coffee shop. We were in kind of a hurry, so I said I’d run in and get it. I don’t know what happened by the car while I was in the shop, but I came out the door and was having trouble carrying it all, and you got out of the SUV to come help me.”

 

            Reid nodded and murmured ‘okay’ although he didn’t remember it at all.

 

            “You came towards me and—oh my goodness, the bomber.” Garcia stopped.

 

            Rossi prodded, “What about him, Garcia?”

 

            “He was walking a few steps ahead of me. And when he saw you, with the FBI on your chest, he said something and we were almost at the car and,” Garcia’s tone became agitated, “he had something in his hand and that was when you grabbed me and threw us both against the ground.”

 

            She was reliving the moment and hyperventilating and Rossi touched her shoulder in an effort to calm her down. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she repeated as she tried to slow her breathing, patting herself on the chest.

 

            Rossi stole a glance at Reid’s face and noticed that the younger man was clearly having a flashback of his own.

 

            “Reid? What is it?”

 

            “I—I remember. I remember getting out of the car. I remember seeing him coming towards me.” He thought hard for a moment and remembered more, “His hand went into his pocket to get something. I thought it was a gun, that’s when I grabbed you Garcia and all the food and coffee spilled.”

 

            She was breathing normally again and nodded as Reid recalled the incident.

 

            “I pulled out my gun as I hit the ground,” his brow furrowed, “But after that, everything is a blank until I woke up here.”

           

            “We think he detonated his device prematurely. They found a destroyed gun in, um, what was left of him,” Rossi told him.

 

            Reid’s eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to him and he asked, “Garcia, can you pull up a map of the coffee shop parking lot?”

 

            She reached for her laptop and did so, turning the screen towards Reid. He scanned it and looked up, making eye contact with Rossi, “He wasn’t going to the coffee shop at all. He was walking to the left, to the north of the parking area. It wasn’t until I got out of the car that he reacted to us at all. He was headed to the subway stop. There’s a Red Line stop right here,” he said, pointing it out to the others, drawing a line with his finger from the location the FBI SUV had been parked north to the subway stop.

 

            Rossi hauled his phone out of his pocket and excused himself to make a call. JJ and Garcia moved aside as the nurse returned with an enormous bowl of Jell-O and carton of apple juice for her patient. Reid accepted the food gratefully.

 

            Rossi returned from the hallway and spoke quietly to JJ and Garcia. Waving his phone in the air, he told Reid, “Duty calls. Gotta go. I’ll check in with you later,” and made his way out the door.

 

            Reid nodded as he made short work of the Jell-O and apple juice. Garcia was sitting in a chair next to his bed, working on her laptop and JJ stood beside her.

 

            “Do you want me to get you more Jell-O, Spence?” JJ asked.

 

            He smiled and shook his head ‘no,’ then asked, “Are my patient belongings around?”

 

            “Yeah, I think they’re in the closet, Spence, but really, the stuff’s all a write-off. You’ll probably have to put in for a new driver’s license and all that. We’ve already told Security that you need your BAU creds replaced, I think Anderson’s looking after that.” She made her way to the closet as she spoke and retrieved the plastic bag full of Reid’s ruined things.

 

            He opened it and grimaced as he looked at the tatters that were once a pair of pants and a purple shirt. Even his tie and shoes were remnants of their former selves. His wallet fell apart in his hands as he picked it up and he noted that JJ had been correct, his IDs, few as they were, had all been damaged and would need replacing. His keys seemed unharmed, except for the plastic Vegas hotel keepsake, which he pulled off and tossed into the garbage can beside his bed. His gun was destroyed, and he held up its remains and asked aloud,

 

            “I wonder if it’ll even need to go in for destruction when I requisition a new one?”

 

            JJ gave him a tiny smile, which wiped off her face immediately when he pulled a destroyed cell phone from the bag.

 

            “Whose is this? This isn’t mine,” Reid said.

 

            “Are you sure?” JJ asked him.

 

            “Positive. Right, Garcia?” he looked to Penelope for confirmation.

 

            “Oh. Yeah, no, that’s not Reid’s phone. We just went out and got him an iPhone not that long ago. That’s definitely an older model Eriksson, that’s not Reid’s.”

 

            “Well then whose—“ JJ began as Reid interrupted her,

 

            “That’s the bomber’s. It must be.”

 

            “The front plate is missing off it,” Garcia noted, as the nurse reentered the room for Reid’s empty dishes. She heard Garcia’s last few words and interjected,

 

            “May I see that for a moment?”

 

            Reid handed it to her. She turned it over carefully and then back again and pulled his chart from its spot at the end of his bed. Consulting it, she looked at the phone and then the chart again and murmured, “Oh my goodness.”

 

            Three pairs of eyes fixed on Reid’s nurse and finally Garcia asked,

 

            “What? What is it?”

 

            “Well, there’s an unusual injury pattern on Dr. Reid’s leg and we wondered what it could be. And it seems to me that, well, look,” she said, offering the chart and the phone remains to Reid. On the chart, one of his attending nurses had drawn the outline of the mark on Reid’s upper left leg. It matched the basic look of the front of the phone. Garcia made a face and Reid expressed the hope that he wouldn’t end up with ‘unsub phone scar’.

 

            “Can I have that phone?” Garcia asked. Reid complied and handed it over. JJ and Reid watched as Garcia fiddled with the phone. She rifled through her purse and found a safety pin. Opening it, Garcia stuck the pin into the side of the phone and gasped,

 

            “The sim card is still in here! I’m gonna analyse it! Maybe I can pull some information about our unsub. Or his cohorts!”

 

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            Rossi stormed out of Cruz’ office with a scowl on his face and strode angrily into the BAU’s conference room. Lewis was seated at the table, with papers spread across it in front of her.

 

            “Dave?” she asked gently, noting his temper.

 

            “The Anti Terrorist Task Force is taking over our case, Lewis. Even Cruz agrees with them that we’re too close and he’s pulling us off it.” He said something in Italian that Lewis was pretty sure was probably profanity judging by his tone.

 

            “So we’re giving up?” she baited, knowing full well what the reply was going to be.

 

            “Like hell,” Rossi spit out. “These—.” Lewis watched as Rossi considered what word to use and couldn’t help but smile as he decided against some Italian curse word and instead continued, “These _unsubs_ killed my best friend, injured our brightest agent and changed the makeup of the unit forever. I am not willing to sit back and let the,” he paused to make air quotes with his fingers, “ _elite anti terrorism squad_ do something we could do better.”

 

            He surveyed the tabletop and asked, “What have you got going here?”

 

            “Well, this is a list of the items found in and around the blast location. Nails, metal fragments, nylon fragments, ball bearings, some bits of electronic circuitry. Sounds like a copycat of the bombs the Boston Marathon bombers made.”

 

            She handed him a photograph. “And this is a surveillance photo from footage taken at the hardware store where some of the those items were purchased. Unfortunately, there were no cameras around the coffee shop. The description Garcia gave us of the bomber pretty much matches the guy in the surveillance photo. And, oh, Garcia called me earlier, Dave. She remembered hearing someone call out what sounded like ‘mommy.’ Do you think the bomber might have been a kid? There with his mother?”

 

            Rossi considered this and shook his head. “Give Garcia a call at the hospital. Ask her to ask Reid. I wonder if it’s a foreign word that might give us a clue.”

 

            Lewis nodded and picked up the phone. She spoke to Garcia for several minutes as Rossi made a call of his own. Both calls concluded, they sat down to compare notes and Lewis hurriedly stood up,

 

            “Sorry, I’ll be right back, Garcia said Reid just wanted me to check something.” She made her way down to the bullpen, and sat at Reid’s desk, opening the drawers and removing his iPhone from the top drawer. Returning to the conference room, she set the iPhone down on the table and picked up her own cell to text Garcia back.

 

_It was in his desk, in its charger._

_Thanks. Check for messages?_

_He wants me to?_ Lewis was a little hesitant to be invading Reid’s privacy.

_Affirmative. He hopes the last message might jog his memory._

Garcia sent Lewis the passcode for Reid’s phone and waited for the reply.

_Ok. Will do. It’s from Emily and says ‘see you then.’_

Lewis’ attention returned to Rossi and the work at hand. In Reid’s hospital room, Garcia was still going through the sim card from the destroyed phone. She relayed Lewis’ text to Reid who, despite being unable to remember the text conversation smiled at the thought of seeing Emily again.

 

            “Have you talked to Emily lately, Penelope?” he wanted to know.

 

            She nodded while not diverting her attention from her chore. “Same as you, looking forward to seeing her again soon.”

 

            “Do you know when exactly, Penelope?”

 

            She replied vaguely, “Think she said sometime before the holidays,” and abruptly changed the subject, “Oh, and Lewis wanted to know if you knew of a word in a foreign language that sounds like mommy but might be relevant to the bombing.”

 

            “Mommy?” Reid bit his lip as he thought. “Penelope, do you remember what the bomber looked like? I mean hair colour, complexion? I was thinking he was quite a bit shorter than me, dark-haired and brown-skinned. Is that how you remember him?”

 

            “Yes. Exactly,” she answered, not even looking up from her computer. Reid was deep in thought and startled when she called out, “I found something.”

 

            “What?”

 

            “Phone contact list. The numbers are all prefaced by +92,” she started.

 

            “Pakistan,” he told her. “That fits.”

 

            “What fits?”

 

            “Pakistan. The word you thought was Mommy was probably Mahni. It’s a place in northern Pakistan, but it’s also a man’s name.”

 

            “Then it’s possible the bomber comes from there? Or knows someone there. Or knows somebody by that name. I guess I should give all these numbers to Rossi. Or the anti-terrorism squad.”

 

            Reid nodded and Garcia made the call.

 

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            “I know a couple of people in that unit, Rossi, maybe we could call in a favour?” Alvez suggested.

 

            Rossi shook his head, “Looks like they’re gonna hafta go with international forces anyway. Interpol.” He tossed a folder down on the table and said, “Thanks to Garcia and Reid, they’ve ID’d our bomber as one Habib Jappa and he was in deep with a faction of radicals from just outside the village of Mahni. Their leader’s name is also Mahni. Joint task force is going to uh, collect, those people now.”

 

            “They’re on the way?” Lewis asked.

 

            Rossi nodded, “And they’re being led by the best in the business.” He collected all the files and dropped them into a box then looked at Lewis and Alvez and said, “Let’s go visit Reid. I’m sure—“

 

            The ringing of the office phone interrupted him. Lewis and Alvez stood by, waiting as Rossi picked it up.

 

            “Yeah……yeah…….now?.....okay…..I’ll send him. Okay, bye,” Rossi hung up the phone, eyed Alvez and addressed them both, “Well, Lewis. You and I can go visit Reid. Alvez, you have a plane to catch. Anderson’ll take you to the airstrip. Good luck!”

 

            Agent Alvez grabbed his go bag from on top of his desk, waved goodbye and followed Anderson out the door to the elevator.

 

            Lewis looked to Rossi, “What was that all about?”

 

            “He’s got a job to do,” Rossi replied vaguely, “And so do we. Let’s stop for some Indian takeout before we hit the hospital. I’m sure Reid must be sick of Jell-O by now.”

 

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            “Are you experiencing any pain due to the injury to your head, Dr. Reid?” the doctor asked him. Reid answered him with a shake of his head. “And the leg?”

 

            He shrugged. “Hurts a bit, but nothing serious. Nothing compared to what Jessica and Jack must be going through,” he said sadly.

 

            “That’s Agent Hotchner’s family?” the doctor asked. Reid nodded. “I’m sorry about your loss, Dr. Reid.” He continued his examination and made notes on Reid’s chart in silence for several minutes. Finally, he clipped the chart folder back into its spot at the end of Reid’s bed and once again spoke.

 

            “You’re actually incredibly lucky, Dr. Reid. When you came in here almost two weeks ago, I wasn’t convinced you were even going to survive. The recovery has been remarkable. The second-degree burns have all almost healed. The concussion you got from the knock your head took seems to have sorted itself out as well. Your X-rays came back negative, so did the MRI. Injury to your head is coming along; I don’t foresee further complications there. And once your hair grows back, the scar won’t be visible either. There will be a bit of a scar on your leg, that piece of shrapnel was embedded pretty deeply. The surgeon removed it, and apparently it was taken away as evidence. Your supervisor, Agent—Rossi—was it?” Reid nodded and Dr. Renfrew continued, “Claimed it. He seems to think you’re physically invincible. This isn’t the first time apparently, that you have cheated death. Impressive.”

 

            Reid shook his head and murmured, “I wish Hotch had been this lucky.”

 

            “If you wish to have something done about the leg, I will give you a referral to a plastic surgeon.”

 

            “It’s just cosmetic isn’t it? My mobility won’t be affected?”

 

            “I don’t believe so, but why don’t we see. If you feel up to it, see if you can stand on it, take a few steps.” Dr. Renfrew helped Reid to his feet and kept a hand on his arm while his patient tried a few tentative steps. He walked the ten steps to his bathroom without incident. Their experiment successful, Dr. Renfrew led Reid back to his bed and helped him climb into it.

 

“I don’t think I want to bother with plastic surgery, Dr. Renfrew.” Reid

told him as he pulled the blanket over himself and lay back against the mattress. Dr. Renfrew took Reid’s chart from its peg and wrote a few more notes in it.

 

            “All right, I’ll just note that here as well.” He scribbled a few more notes and looked up, “And one more thing, your memory, Dr. Reid. There’s a notation here that you remembered something about the incident yesterday.”

 

            Reid nodded.

 

            “Have you recovered all your memory?”

 

            “I don’t think so. I couldn’t remember where I’d left my phone. And when they found it and read out the last text message exchange on it, I didn’t remember that either.”

 

            “But you have remembered some things?”

 

            Again Reid nodded.

 

            “We’ll stay on top of that, but it appears your memory is returning. I want you to stay here at least one more night. I’ll be by to see you again tomorrow and I’ll reassess then.”

 

            “Okay, thanks.”

 

            “There are a couple of blondes out in the hall that have been patiently waiting for me to get out of here,” Dr. Renfrew teased, “So I’ll be heading out now and letting your girl friends take over.”

 

            Dr. Renfrew opened the door and with a grand flourish, indicated Reid and said, “He’s all yours, ladies. Don’t break him.”

 

            They rushed into Reid’s room, laughing and Garcia handed him his iPhone.

 

            “Section Chief Cruz wants you to call him. He’s apparently called you a couple of times but he didn’t know your phone was at the office. I told him today, and he asked that we relay his request that you call him. Oh. And um, how are you feeling today, Reid?”

 

            “I’m good. I walked all the way to the bathroom,” he took the phone from Garcia and noticed JJ was also holding something out for him. He took the folded piece of construction paper as she explained,

 

            “Henry wanted to make you a get well card. And, well, there it is.” She leaned in to kiss the top of his head, carefully avoiding the bandage.

 

            “Aw, thanks so much. Will you tell him? I’ll call him if I may, later on?” He read through it and admired Henry’s artwork and set the card on the tray table beside his bed, next to the water glass already there.

 

            “He’d love to hear from his Uncle Spence.”

 

            “So where’s the rest of the team?”

 

            “At the office, Boy Wonder. After I gave them your tip about Pakistan and Mahni, they did some digging. I squeezed some old texts out of that phone too, but they were all in a foreign language so I sent a transcript off to the translators. They said it was in Urdu, and sent the translations off to the terrorist unit. Rossi is coordinating that investigation from the BAU. But your thought about the subway was correct. According to the transcript of the text messages, they _were_ planning to blow up a subway train. DC police are involved with us in that aspect of the investigation.”

 

            “Did Cruz say when he wanted me to call him?”

 

            “ASAP, 187, he’s expecting your call. JJ and I will go down the hall to get us all some coffee. Make the call, we’ll be right back,” she said as the two of them left the room.

 

            Reid swiped the phone on and found his missed calls. He touched one of the four from Cruz and it connected immediately.

 

            “Reid! How are you?”

 

            “Good, thank you, Sir. Garcia said you wanted me to call you.”

 

            “Yes, Reid. I realise this is a little awkward and perhaps difficult, given the circumstances. First, I’m sorry about Aaron Hotchner, and that you missed the funeral but that was unavoidable.”

 

            Reid murmured ‘mmh hmm’ but didn’t interrupt his superior.

 

            “And I needed you to call as soon as possible because I need to know as soon as possible. I have to fill Hotchner’s position. I realise this is an awkward and awful matter but I need to deal with it. I’ve gone through personnel and asked David Rossi but he doesn’t want the job. He’s doing it for me temporarily, but he’s declined taking it on permanently. You’re qualified, Reid. You’re an experienced profiler, with an excellent record and you’re in line for the job if you want it.”

 

            Cruz paused to take a breath and wondered if he’d lost the connection when he was greeted by silence. Reid was incredulous and momentarily at a loss for words.

 

            “Reid? Are you there?”

 

            “I’m here, Sir. Um, do you have other candidates?”

 

            “I could, but I’m starting with you.”

 

            “I appreciate the endorsement, Sir, but I’m sorry, I’m gonna hafta decline.” He sighed, took a breath and continued, “Changes, Sir. I’ve never really liked changes. There are two kinds of changes. The ones we can’t control, like Morgan leaving and Hotch” there was a catch in his voice as he spoke, “dying. We accept them; we steel ourselves and forge ahead. And there are changes we do control. Choices we can make. And I’m just not up to taking on that much responsibility. I’m just not in a place in my life right now where I can make that kind of change.”

 

            “Understood, Reid. Not a problem.”

 

            “Sir? If I may, I do have a candidate to suggest, if you’re interested.”

 

            “Please share, Agent, your opinion is valued.”

 

            He gave Cruz his reply and disconnected his call as JJ and Penelope reentered his room bearing coffee.

 

            “Thank you,” he enthused, and immediately starting shaking half a dozen sugar packets into one of the coffees. The two women laughed and JJ made a joke about how much he must have missed his coffee the last two weeks.

 

            “I am gonna savour this one,” he promised, making a production out of sniffing it and tasting it and sighing contentedly. He sipped at it and listened as Garcia and JJ updated him on the case and he shared his medical status with them.

 

            “The doctor might let you go home tomorrow? That is excellent news, Spence!” JJ exclaimed. At that moment, the door opened and Rossi and Lewis stepped in, bearing Indian takeout for everyone.

 

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            Two days later, on a rainy Thursday morning, Reid’s doctor discharged him from the hospital. He still sported a smaller version of the dressing on his head wound, but the stitches had come out and he was healing well. His normally unruly mop of hair was more unruly than usual. Garcia had arrived to take him home, and had taken it upon herself to arrange his hair over the bandage to cover the shaved area. She’d brought him pajamas from home several days earlier and this morning had brought along a change of clothes. He was still walking with a bit of a limp but he managed to get to the bathroom and dress himself without any help.

 

            Once back in the patient room, he helped Garcia gather up the few items in the room that would be going home—or back to the BAU—with him. He followed Garcia down the hallway and into the elevator as they rode down to the ground level parking lot.

 

            Shifting a floral arrangement into the crook of her arm, Garcia fished her car keys out of her purse and unlocked the doors. They stowed everything in the back and then she saw Reid into the front passenger seat. After getting in herself, she reached over and touched his arm,

 

            “Hey, Rei—Spencer—I was wondering if you wanted to go say goodbye to Hotch today? Or is it too—soon?”

 

            He gave her a grateful smile. “I’d like that, but, I—need to pick up a couple of things, Penelope, before we go there.” He looked out the car window, thinking, and she assured him it would be no trouble to make a few stops.

 

            She concentrated on her driving as they ran the errands to pick up the things Reid wanted. When they pulled into his apartment building’s parking lot, he looked over at her and asked,

 

            “Would it be possible to call Rossi and JJ and the others and see if they’ll meet us there?”

 

            “I’ll call them all, you go on up.” She handed back to him the keys to his apartment that he’d given her to retrieve his clothes several days earlier, and then he thanked her and removed his belongings from the back seat and made his way into his home.

 

            An hour later, it had stopped raining. Under a still overcast sky, Garcia pulled into the cemetery property and parked beside a familiar car. Reid retrieved the bag containing all his items and joined Garcia as she walked along a pathway and found Rossi, Lewis, JJ and former agent Derek Morgan waiting for them at the fresh grave of their former Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner.

 

            The others stood back solemnly and silently as Reid knelt before the headstone and laid a single white rose in front of it. Beside the rose, he set a white knight from a chess set and a Ziploc bag with a photograph inside. He spoke in quiet undertones, none of his companions heard what he said and then he touched the headstone and whispered, “Good bye Hotch,” as a few tears slipped from his eyes. He rose to his feet, Garcia reached out to help steady him and he took her arm as he straightened up.

 

            “Aaron Hotchner was more than just the best boss we could imagine. He made me a better profiler and a better person. He made me learn from my mistakes, he never let me wallow in them. He was like a father to me, without ever presuming to play that role,” Reid paused, swallowed, and drew a book out of his bag, which he set down next to the knight and the rose. _‘In Memory of a Friend, Teacher and Mentor’ by Philip Roth_ sat on top of the Ziploc bag.

 

            Reid reached for Garcia’s left hand, gave her a slight nod. She took Morgan’s hand in her right and understanding immediately, Morgan reached for JJ’s hand, and Lewis and Rossi quickly joined the circle.

 

            “He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man. Antoine de Saint-Exupery,” Reid quoted.

 

            They stood in silent vigil for a moment, then Morgan spoke, “The loss of a friend is like that of a limb; time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired. Robert Southey.”

 

            After another moment of silence, Reid picked up the bag and pulled glasses out of it, passing one to each team member. He removed a thirty-year old bottle of Scotch from the bag and passed that over to Rossi.

 

            “Will you?” he asked the older man. Rossi nodded and opened the bottle, pouring a little of it into each of their glasses. Reid held out another glass, which Rossi filled. Reid set that glass down beside the knight. Rossi waited until Reid stood back up, and then he rose his glass in toast as he spoke,

 

            “The loss of a friend is the greatest of losses. Publilius Syrus. To Aaron Hotchner. Colleague. Boss. Husband and father. Mentor. Friend.” He paused for a moment as their glasses clinked, then “Damn it, Aaron, I’ll miss you.”

 

            “Hotch,” they all chorused together, raising their glasses, shedding some tears and hugging each other.

 

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            “Everyone to the conference room, please,” Rossi gestured towards it as he passed through the bullpen. Immediately, JJ, Reid and Lewis rose from their respective desks and hurried along behind him. As they took their seats, Mateo Cruz entered the room with a couple of file folders in his hands.

 

            He stood before them and Rossi waved his hand, “Mateo? Floor’s yours.”

 

            “Thank you, Dave,” he acknowledged, then launched into the reason he’d assembled them, “The joint force has neutralised the threat that began here in DC two weeks ago. Information retrieved by Garcia here,” he smiled at her in acknowledgement, “led to a group in northern Pakistan, anchored by two men here in DC. The one who was killed when we lost Hotch, and another the force tracked back to the village in the Punjab where they were doing their planning. They moved in and arrested fourteen members of the faction, with the cooperation of Interpol and the Pakistani law enforcement. Thanks to all your efforts, this terrorist threat was ended before it could escalate any further. Obviously, this came at a high cost to us and this leaves me in the unenviable position of having to fill Aaron’s job.”

 

            He paused to pace around the table, stopping between Rossi and Reid who were seated next to each other, and laying a hand on each of their shoulders.

 

            “Both the candidates I originally considered have turned it down and I fully understand their decisions. I did however, receive a recommendation from one of them, saw that through and can tell you that I have a new chief for the Behavioral Analysis Unit and it’s someone you’re all familiar with.” He paused again as the conference room door opened and Agent Luke Alvez entered the room, carrying his go bag. He looked tired and bedraggled and sank into a chair with a short apology,

 

            “Sorry I’m late. Plane just landed an hour ago, Sir. Haven’t even gone home yet.”

 

            “S’okay Alvez,” Cruz reassured him. “You did great work in Pakistan, leading that task force to capture those radicals. I’m very proud of the job you guys did.”

 

            Alvez acknowledged the praise with a smile and opened his mouth to speak but stopped short as the door opened again.

 

            “Ah,” Cruz smiled. “And speak of the devil. The new BAU chief, folks,” he waved as she entered the room, “Emily Prentiss.”

 

 

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            A young boy ran ahead, chasing after his dog as they headed down the path to the river. He carried a fishing pole and tackle box and the burden slowed him down; his Black Lab reached the water before he did. The dog splashed into the water causing the boy to break into laughter.

 

            “Come back here Brookie!” he called, falling to the ground as the dog returned and jumped up against him, knocking him over.

 

            “Careful there, son,” his father called, slowly catching up to the boy and dog as he limped along the path behind them. He moved carefully, fighting against the pain of several burns from which he was still recovering. Bandages were visible on his arms and legs, peeking out from under the short sleeves of his golf shirt and his Bermuda shorts.

 

            “Hey, dad? You okay?” he shouted.

 

            The tall, dark haired man called back, “Yeah. I am.” When he reached them, he sat down next to the pair and gingerly put an arm around his son, “We’re gonna spend the rest of our lives together here. How could I not be?”

 

-fin-

 

 

           

 

           

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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